A day or so ago, I wrote about the brave mouse who sacrificed his life trying to get an oversized dog biscuit into his mouse hole at the far end of the farmhouse. He was so determined to save his biscuit – it was three times bigger than the hole and I couldn’t believe he could even move it –  that I spared him, caught him and got him and his biscuit outside, but the mouse never got to celebrate his biscuit. He ran into Mother the barn cat. Lenore found his body outside.

I buried him by the edge of the garden, along with his biscuit. Between Mother and my mousetraps, many mice have gone to glory here, but this one seemed especially worthy to me and I couldn’t bear to kill him. Mother had no qualms. Cats do not emotionalize things.

But there is another twist to the story. I took Lenore outside this afternoon to keep me company while I took some photos and I was lost in my own world, and she came rushing over to me wagging her tail and eager to bring me something, which she was pressing against my leg. It took a second or so to see the tail sticking out of her mouth, and then the remains of the biscuit and dirt.

Lenore was very pleased with herself, and she is quite emotional about food. If there is a moral to this story, perhaps somebody else can figure it out. I love Lenore.